untry, and understood the hospitable ways of
country people.

"Come along, Henry," he said. "I'll ask them to sell us some supper. I
am sure they will be willing."

Followed by his new acquaintance, he walked up to the side door and
knocked--for there was no bell.

The young girl--probably about Philip's age--opened the door and
regarded them with some surprise.

Philip bowed.

"Will you be kind enough to tell us if there is any hotel near-by?" he
asked.

"There's one about three miles and a half farther on."

Henry groaned inwardly.

"I am going to ask you a favor," said Philip. "My friend and I have
traveled a considerable distance, and stand in need of supper. We are
willing to pay as much as we should have to at a hotel, if you will let
us take supper here."

"I'll ask mother," said the young girl.

And forthwith she disappeared. She came back in company with a stout,
motherly-looking woman. Philip repeated his request.

"Why, to be sure," she said heartily. "We always have enough, and to
spare. Come right in, and we'll have supper as soon as the men-folks
come in."

They entered a neat kitchen, in the middle of which was set out a table,
with a savory supper upon it. Henry's eyes sparkled, and his mouth
watered, for the poor boy was almost famished.

"If you want to wash come right in here," said the farmer's wife,
leading the way into a small room adjoining.

The two boys gladly availed themselves of the permission, though Henry
would not have minded sitting right down, dusty as he was. However, he
felt better after he had washed his face and bands and wiped them on the
long roll towel that hung beside the sink.

They were scarcely through, when their places were taken by the farmer
and his son, the latter a tall, sun-burned young man, of about twenty,
who had just come in from a distant field. The farmer's wife soon
explained the presence of the two young strangers.

"Sho!" said the farmer. "You're pretty young to be travelin'. You ain't
in any business, be you?"

Henry was rather ashamed to mention that his business was killing
Indians, though, as yet, he had not done anything in that line. He had
an idea that he might be laughed at.

"I am a little of a musician," said Philip modestly.

"Sho! do you make it pay?"

"Pretty well, so far; but I think when I get to New York I shall try
something else."

"Are you a musician as well as he?" asked the farmer of Henry.

"No, sir."

"Com